


Do Not Forget Me

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-04
Updated: 2008-07-03
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8089027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: A trio of stories from the POVs of Hoshi, Malcolm and Trip during that final battle on the Enterprise Bridge in "Twilight".





	1. Lieutenant Commander Hoshi Sato

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: **Disclaimer: Donâ€™t own â€˜em, donâ€™t make money off â€˜em.**  
  
Notes: A trio of drabbles, focusing on Hoshi, Malcolm and Trip during their final moments on the Enterprise bridge in â€œTwilightâ€. Yeah, itâ€™s kinda tragic, but this idea wouldnâ€™t let go, and I wrote this in one stretch.  
  
Warning: Major character deaths ahead.  
  
Pairings: R/S and TnT (implied)  
  
Rating: T   


* * *

**

Lieutenant Commander Hoshi Sato

**

  
**â€œHull breaches on B Deck...C Deck...â€**   


My heart jumps to my throat and stays there. I canâ€™t report the damage fast enough; about a third of the shipâ€™s graphic on my console is a bloody red, and thereâ€™s nothing I can do...

I look over at Captain Tucker. Trip. Heâ€™s still standing by the helmsman, his expression grim as the Xindiâ€™s shots hit home. When was the last time I heard him laugh? Saw him smile? I canâ€™t remember. The weight of command has made Trip a hard man, not by choice, but by necessity. I remember the brief joy in his eyes when Jon Archer, Tâ€™Pol and Phlox stepped on board. His friend had come back, just for a little while. But like a dark curtain, I saw the anguish, the resignation that he would never say aloud.

Only the shell of Jon Archer had returned. The man, who had been his friend, _our_ friend, _our_ commanding officer, had died twelve years ago. For the past nine, Trip has taken up the mantle that Jon left behind, since Tâ€™Pol couldnâ€™t. Fleetingly, briefly, I wonder again: Did Trip resent Tâ€™Pol for ramming the ship, for resigning her commission, for living on the planet with Jon? If he did...if he does...he hides it well. Heâ€™s gotten quite skilled at hiding his emotions. A different man from the Chief Engineer of so long ago.

Trip meets my gaze and the tiniest quirk of his lips lifts my heart. Yes, thereâ€™s still a glimmer of the fun-loving Trip, who had played the harmonica and had eaten Chefâ€™s pecan pie. Heâ€™s still in there. I remember him; he hasnâ€™t completely disappeared.

Again, the deck pitches under our feet. My eyes snap back to the readouts...more hull breaches, more decks open to space. Engineering is still intact, as well on Sickbay, and the Armory, on E Deck...

I sneak a glance at Malcolm. Commanderâ€”no, _Captain_ Reed now. I always joke that the goatee would make him look more like a starship captain. Malcolm only smiles, but Iâ€™ve noticed he never contradicts me. Heâ€™s asked me to go with him, to _Intrepid_ , when he replaces Captain Ramirez. You know, I canâ€™t exactly refuse a request from a senior officer, especially when said senior officer is also your husband.

The Bridge rocks again. Malcolm looks over at Trip, and reports, with just a hint of concern, â€œOur forward shieldâ€™s collapsing!â€ He meets my gaze, briefly. I see the anger, the fury in his eyes, but itâ€™s for the Xindi. I see the frustration at not being able to protect the ship from this attack. At being able to protect me. Iâ€™m fully aware that if the Bridge had had some sort of escape pod, he would grab me from my post, stuff me into the pod, and jettison me towards the planet without hesitation.

Of course, Iâ€™d be cursing him in every language I knew, if he did something like that.

And in that second, stretched into heartbeats, I see all his love, his regret. If the Xindi hadnâ€™t destroyed our world, would our future be different?

He mouths, _Iâ€™m sorry, luv._

I smile, as I feel the tears stinging my eyes, _Itâ€™s all right, Malcolm. Itâ€™s okay. I understand._

Weâ€™re on opposite sides of the Bridge, too far away from each other, but I know heâ€™ll always be there for me.

A shrill alarm erupts from Malcolmâ€™s board, and his next words are tinged with strident panic, â€œTheyâ€™re targeting the Bridge!â€ Without the new shields, we were going to die.

Trip glances down at the helmsman, still determined to the end. â€œHard to portâ€”â€œ Maybe, if we were fast enough, we might be able to avoid itâ€”

Too late. 

My eyes never leave Malcolmâ€™s. I stretch my hand out to him, and in seconds, the bulkhead next to me crumples and collapses like tissue paper, and I hear a roaring wind as the air is sucked out into space. The ceiling of the Bridge is sliced off, and I hang on to my chair as long as I can, but itâ€™s so cold and my visionâ€™s starting to blur...

And impossibly, I feel a hand close upon mine. And in that last second, I realize that somehow, through some kind of superhuman effort, Malcolmâ€™s defied gravity and space shear and managed to reach my side. He holds me close as we finally surrender to free fall. Itâ€™s cold in space, and my thoughts are dissolving like mist, but before my eyes close for the final time, I imagine his voice in my ear, saying,

_â€œI love you. Never forget that.â€_

_â€œI wonâ€™t, Malcolm, I promâ€”â€œ_


	2. Captain Malcolm Reed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: Dont own em, dont make money off em.**

  
Author's notes: **Disclaimer: Donâ€™t own â€˜em, donâ€™t make money off â€˜em.**  
  
Notes: From Malcolmâ€™s perspective. Shran makes an appearance here. And what's the deal with the goatee and Hoshi's short hair?  
  
Rating: T  
  
Pairings: R/S and TnT (implied)  


* * *

****

**Captain Malcolm Reed**

 **â€œOur forward cannon is down.â€**

_But we still have a few more tricks up our sleeves, now, donâ€™t we?_ I feel my mouth stretch into a tight smirk as I compensate for the loss. Shran had not only given us shields, but other weaponry as well. An aft cannon, two more cannons amidships, more torpedoes. I had never been one of his ardent admirers (though we respected each other, warrior to warrior), but at least, he listened to me when we worked on weapons design for the joint Starfleet/Andorian fleet.

â€œI like how you think, pinkskin,â€ heâ€™d told me on more than one occasion. â€œA warrior must be prepared for every contingency, but still leave a few things to chance. If you cannot adjust, you will be dead. You and I think the same.â€

Iâ€™d chuckled and wiped grease and grime off my face from the installation of said aft cannon. â€œIs that a compliment, Shran?â€ I asked him.

â€œI suppose it is.â€ His antennae spiked up in humor. â€œI would welcome you into an Imperial Guard any day, my brother.â€

â€œThank you.â€ I knew that was the highest honor, coming from Shran. He later came aboard when heâ€™d received word of my promotion and he, Trip, Hoshi and I toasted each other with Andorian ale. _Eat, drink and be merry, for one day..._

The shaking of the decks jolts me out of my thoughts. Iâ€™m woolgathering in the midst of battle! Itâ€™s the damn beard...Hoshi had joked that it would make me look â€œmore like a captainâ€, whatever the hell that meant. Iâ€™m not that old. Yet. And I certainly am not senile. Yet.

I look over at her, calmly analyzing and tracking battle transmissions from _Intrepid_ and other ships. Sheâ€™s always been beautiful to me, even with her hair cut short. Iâ€™m sad to admit that it was my fault that she had to get her long locks shorn, after a rather unfortunate accident in the Armory. Sheâ€™s never forgiven me for it.

But Iâ€™ve loved her anyway.

Trip Tucker stands there, not too far away, looking at me with sidelong glances. Iâ€™ve been his First Officer for so long; sometimes we know what each other is thinking, what each other is planning. Nine long years. Weâ€™ve come a long way from being Archerâ€™s Chief Engineer and Armory Officer. Heâ€™s changed, Iâ€™ve changed, weâ€™ve all changed. Commander Tucker wouldnâ€™t have threatened to space the extra Xindi out the air lock or slice the spyâ€™s ship into tiny pieces. But weâ€™ve become hardened after Earth was destroyed. Itâ€™s us or them. 

It took me a while to accept the promotion and transfer, but Trip was right when he said to me, â€œThere arenâ€™t many of us left whoâ€™re qualified for the job, Malcolm. You deserve it.â€ Heâ€™s always been so strong, so supportive. I suppose I knew it from the beginning, when weâ€™d gotten stuck on that infernal shuttlepod together. Yes, the optimism had given way to realism, but he was still that stubborn Southerner with the annoying accent.

Trip gives me the tiniest of nods. Thereâ€™s nothing further to be said. I nod back, warrior to warrior. A benediction? A farewell? Thereâ€™s still the slightest glimmer of hope deep within his eyes, hope that we would survive.

Another alarm and my fingers dance over the console, trying to shunt power. â€œOur forward shieldâ€™s collapsing!â€ Even with Shranâ€™s help, the new shields arenâ€™t enough to withstand the fury of several Xindi ships attacking at once. A sense of fear and dread passes through me as the damage reports come in. Itâ€™s bad, very bad. For the first time in a long time, I question whether or not we _would_ survive this engagement to fight another day.

My eyes catch Hoshiâ€™s as she gazes back at me. I wish weâ€™d had more time. I wish there was some way to get her off the ship and to safety. _If wishes were horses..._

â€œIâ€™m sorry, luv,â€ I whisper.

I canâ€™t hear her reply, with all the electronics exploding around us and sparks flaring, but I can see the forgiveness in her eyes. _Itâ€™s all right, Malcolm. Itâ€™s okay. I understand._

Then the targeting scanners show me the final message: â€œTheyâ€™re targeting the Bridge!â€ My eyes snap back up and meet my wifeâ€™s. At this point, we all know what that means. Reeds stay at their post, even when the shipâ€™s sinking around them. _To hell with tradition._ Iâ€™m out of my seat, rushing past the turbolift, as I feel the vibrations through the walls.

And I believe Trip saw me, but allowed me that last indulgence. He ordered the helmsman, â€œHard to portâ€”â€œ

Hoshiâ€™s holding her hand out to me, and just as my fingers brush against hers, the bulkhead next to her station explodes. The shockwave pushes her into me; I grab her hand and pull her close, even as I hear the tearing of metal and see the blackness beyond it. The air is sucked out of my lungs, I canâ€™t breathe, my lungs feel like theyâ€™re going to explode. 

_God, Iâ€™m going to drown after all..._ but at least, Iâ€™m not alone, as Iâ€™d imagined in my worst nightmares. I manage to hold her against me, shielding her, burying my face in her shoulder. 

I love you, never forget that.

Strangely enough, my vision isnâ€™t going black, but growing brighter and brighter...

The stars are so blindingly bright.


	3. Captain Charles "Trip" Tucker, III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: Dont own em, dont make money off em.**

  
Author's notes: **Disclaimer: Donâ€™t own â€˜em, donâ€™t make money off â€˜em.**  
  
Notes: From Tripâ€™s perspective. This assumes that thereâ€™s still a bond between him and Tâ€™Pol, but itâ€™s been dormant for nine years, ever since T'Pol went w/Jon to the planet. I changed one thing: I'd always thought that if anything happened to Trip, T'Pol would have somehow known it, even if she didn't have romantic feelings for him anymore.  
  
Rating: T  
  
Pairings: R/S and TnT (implied)  


* * *

**

Captain Charles â€œTripâ€ Tucker, III

**

â€œAdjust your heading...â€

****

I give the coordinates by memory and order full impulse. We canâ€™t afford to go to warp here; weâ€™re too close to the planet as it is. The Xindi are way too close. Part of me does calculations and tactics in my head as I give the word to fire. Another part of me is in Sickbay, with Jon and Tâ€™Pol and Phlox. It looked like Phloxâ€™s experiment in Engineering was successful. He and Tâ€™Pol are convinced that they can erase those things in Jonâ€™s brain and even possibly change the timeline. Iâ€™m intrigued by the idea; hell, anythingâ€™s better than this. Unfortunately, I canâ€™t spare the time or the energy for a theoretical experiment when the Xindi are about to wipe out whatâ€™s left of us.

In another time, another place, I wouldâ€™ve jumped at the idea. I owe Jon my life, and Iâ€™d give _anything_ to save his, but in _this_ time and place, I have to rearrange my priorities. Nine years of lonely commandâ€™ll do that to you. I canâ€™t blame Jon â€˜cause he didnâ€™t ask for these parasite things in his head. I used to blame Tâ€™Pol, for ramming us into that Xindi ship and messing up the warp drive, then going with Jon down to the planet. The few times I visited â€˜em, I saw the guilt and the haunted memory in her beautiful eyes. 

She punishes herself every day, telling Jon about Earthâ€™s destruction. Over and over. She doesnâ€™t need me to throw it in her face. Contrary to popular belief, I still have feelings for her. Not the heady romantic love it used to be. Like I said, nine yearsâ€™ll change people. So I donâ€™t do it, and instead, give her as much support as I can, considering Iâ€™m up here in space and sheâ€™s down there on the surface.

It was weird, seeing Jon and Tâ€™Pol when they came aboard. Tâ€™Pol, still looking pretty much the same. Jon, giving me that smile and saying, â€œCaptain Tucker.â€ Gotta admit, it threw me when he asked me how long Iâ€™d been in command. I hesitated for a moment before I told him. Itâ€™s gotta be hell not remembering and having to relieve the same things. The glimpse of the old Jon still got through, though, and Iâ€™m glad.

â€œDid everyone get their own ship while I was gone?â€ Jon had joked, after hearing Malcolmâ€™s a captain now, and due to take command of _Intrepid_. I donâ€™t think Jon was as surprised to hear it. He knew (knows?) Malcolm is the best Armory officer of the fleet, and the best First Officer a Captain can have. He and I have commanded _Enterprise_ longer than Jon has, and I wouldnâ€™t leave the ship in more capable hands than Malcolmâ€™s. 

Heâ€™s not only my First Officer. Heâ€™s my friend. Funny, I wouldnâ€™t have thought that stubborn Brit would play such a huge part in my life. We must be the strangest pair of brothers in the universe. He watches my back, I watch his. When Iâ€™d told him to cut the guyâ€™s ship into little pieces and â€œuse a torchâ€, I had no doubt heâ€™d do it. Malcolm knows the fine line between darkness and light; we both have to walk it all the time.

And Malcolm keeps me from falling head-over-ass into the abyss.

I look over at Hoshi as she reports, â€œHull breaches on B Deck, C Deckâ€”â€œ The Xindi shots are rocking the Bridge continuously now. She adds that _Intrepid_ â€™s lost her port nacelle, and I tell her to tell Ramirez to withdraw. He canâ€™t do anything now except get himself and his crew killed.

Iâ€™m proud of how sheâ€™s keeping her cool, even in the middle of the battle for our lives. Such a change from the terrified Ensign, who wanted to go back to Earth. Iâ€™d convinced her to stay because we needed her. Iâ€™ve watched her grow, guided her like an older brother. You know, she reminds me of Lizzie...theyâ€™ve both got the same fire. I wonder how theyâ€™d react if they met each other, in another time. 

And her and Malcolm...youâ€™d never seen a cuter couple. I nearly broke my neck trying to get â€˜em to admit their feelings for each other. (If we get outta this, remind me to tell the story later, okay?). Even now, theyâ€™re giving each other those little glances across the Bridge. I married â€˜em, and theyâ€™ve been a beacon of hope ever since. Still brings a tear to this softieâ€™s eye.

â€œOur forward cannon is down,â€ Malcolm reports.

I nod and quietly give the helmsman his orders. We need to give Malcolm the chance to use the other cannons on the hull. Granted, itâ€™s awkward as hell, but if anyone can fire at a ninety degree angle and blindfolded, itâ€™s Malcolm. The Xindi know weâ€™re in trouble, but damned if Iâ€™m going to let them take this ship or destroy whatâ€™s left of humanity.

Sparks fly all around me, but I stay fast. Weâ€™ve gotten out of sticky situations before...all we need is a little more time...I see Malcolm glance at me and I give him a nod. _Keep going, weâ€™re gonna make it._ He nods back.

Then Malcolmâ€™s board screeches and he shouts, â€œOur forward shieldâ€™s collapsing!â€ My mind races; weâ€™ve got to compensate for the devastating loss, but I get the bad feeling this might be it. And a second after that, Malcolm yells, â€œTheyâ€™re targeting the Bridge!â€

I make the decision...out of the corner of my eye, I realize Malcolmâ€™s running across the upper deck, heading towards Hoshi. Sheâ€™s holding her hand out for him. I canâ€™t help but smile. _Nah, let him go. They belong together._ And in that moment, I feel a pang of pride for this crew, for everything theyâ€™ve done. Weâ€™ll go down swinging, and I wouldnâ€™t want it any other way.

Still, I gotta try to save as many of â€˜em as I can, so I look down at the helmsmanâ€”Rogers, his name was, heâ€™d been one of Travisâ€™s people, years agoâ€”and I tell him, 

â€œHard to portâ€”â€œ

Several shots rock the Bridge. I feel my feet go out from under me and I grab hold of the back of Rogersâ€™s chair. The wall to my leftâ€™s blown out...right next to Hoshi and Malcolm, and I see both of â€˜em being hurled away from me, out into the blackness of space. Malcolmâ€™s holding her close, shielding her, protecting her to the very end. 

The ceiling of the Bridge is sheared off, like itâ€™s been ripped by a galactic can-opener. Air rushes out, my teeth chatter, space is damn cold. Deep in my brain, I hear a scream of agony and despair, and I know where itâ€™s coming from.

_Tâ€™Pol, Iâ€™m sorry. Donâ€™t forget I still loveâ€”_ The bond between us engulfs me, I didnâ€™t know it was still there (maybe I'd denied it, to protect myself) but it gives me a small bit of warm comfort, even in the chill of space.

I stare out into the stars, and I can almost brush them with my fingertips...just a little more...


End file.
